


Mixed Fandom One-Shots

by Loki_Tony_Mephisto27



Category: Ao no Exorcist | Blue Exorcist, Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Sherlock (TV), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-15 17:46:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 15,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18674488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loki_Tony_Mephisto27/pseuds/Loki_Tony_Mephisto27
Summary: Welcome to my one shots book! Quick disclaimer, obviously I do not own the characters or the actors. Also, for any Marvel stories, there are NO ENDGAME SPOILERS. Finally, I would love some requests! Feel free to request any character from the fandoms mentioned above - I will write anything clean. Hope you enjoy my writing! Whilst I am still accepting requests, you should also know that most of this was written a long time ago and has been transferred from a different media. In my opinion, it does not really compare to my current works as I was a lot less experienced. That being said, we all need to start somewhere and this is where I started, so feel free to have a look. I also encourage you to investigate my other works, which have all been written more recently.





	1. Tony x Reader - My Queen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First one-shot posted! This is Tony x Reader but from Loki’s point of view, so is less focused on their relationship and more so on the weirdness (awesomeness) that ensues. Also, this is quite short and bonus points if you know the song before Tony says it!

Loki had been having a fairly quiet day. Confined to the Avenger’s Tower as he was, he had made the most of it by reading and keeping to himself. That was until Y/N had ‘danced’ - if you could call it that - into the room screaming “I’m havin’ a good time!” The God of Mischief was extremely confused until he registered the headphones in her ears. But surely she wasn’t so lost in the music that she didn’t even realise he was there? 

“I’m gonna go, go, go there’s no stoppin’ me!” 

“Y/N! What are you doing?!” He tried, but to no avail. She was too far gone. 

“I’m burnin’ through the sky, yeah!” 

“I’m not sure that’s actually possible,” Loki attempted for a second time, sighing when he realised it would do no good. 

“200 degrees, that’s why they call me Mr Fahrenheit!” She also seemed to have gained an American accent from somewhere, he was unsure when exactly that happened. He had resolved to just watch her ridiculously erratic dance moves and rather good singing when Stark swaggered into the room. 

“What’s she listening to, Reindeer Games?” Loki scowled at the nickname but decided to let it slide. 

“I honestly have no idea. She was yelling at me that she wanted to ‘make a supersonic man out of me’ just a moment before you came in, so make of that what you will-“

“Don’t stop me now!!” Tony cut him off to yell at the same time as Y/N, whose face split into a massive grin as she lip-read his words through her pounding beats. Loki was aghast, unable to decipher what kind of cult ritual he was witnessing. The next thing he knew, Y/N and Stark were both dancing in the middle of the living room whilst singing a duet - intermittently miming drum solos and guitar riffs. 

Mouth open in shock he simply shook his head and watched the performance, astounded by how flamboyantly superfluous it was. The song clearly reached its crescendo and then its end, made obvious when the performers both bent over backwards with one arm held up triumphantly in the air. Sensing a sudden magic energy signature, Loki glances over his shoulder to see a pair of hands sticking out of a portal and applauding, much to Stark’s and Y/N’s delight. They started throwing dramatic kisses and bows around the room to an invisible audience. 

However, Loki snapped his book shut and decided enough was well and truly enough when they started kissing. The hands also disappeared back through the portal, Loki noted, meaning their owner felt the same.


	2. Mycroft x Lestrade - Greg’s Gryffindor Moment

Extremely tired, courtesy of insomnia, I finally made it back to my flat. I scanned my personal card to get into the main building then took all five flights of stairs two at a time. I had left at a little before 3am, armed with a Thermos flask of coffee, upon coming to terms with the fact that I wouldn't be able to sleep that night. 

It was 7.30am when I slid my key into the flat's lock, slipping inside and kicking off my winter boots. I kept my long black coat on because the flat's expanse was so bitingly cold - the heating had picked the worst possible time to give up on me. London's dreary grey morning had only just started rising into existence, as had the small but steady flow of its commuters. 

I was about to waltz into the open plan living room/kitchen when I realised I could hear a muted conversation taking place inside. I froze in place, heart thundering and breathing seeming so much louder than it had just a few seconds ago. I silently opened a cupboard, gripping the nearest potentially dangerous thing I could find; a crow bar. Then, with the most evil look I could master, I burst through the door and let out a battle cry, only to stop halfway across the room. 

From two chairs, each positioned side by side leapt Lestrade and Mycroft, the former selflessly hurling himself in front of the latter to protect his boyfriend from whatever harm may have been about to befall him. 

"Kiarna?!" Exclaimed an incredulous voice, "What on earth are you doing?"

"Ki," Lestrade complained loudly in a singsong voice, as though I should have been perfectly calm upon walking into my flat and finding two people relaxing in it at 7.30am, neither of whom actually had a key! 

"For God's sake!" I yelled at them both, having almost gone down in fright myself. "What are you pair doing here? Also, why are you in my flat? And - more importantly than either of the above - how did you break in?!" At this moment I have Mycroft a rather pointed look, which he countered with an expressionless face and a singular raised eyebrow. Rather than replying, Lestrade tried to snatch the crow bar out of my hands, failing miserably when I trailed it out of his reach. 

"Aw, you are cute ..." I told him mockingly, batting my eyelashes. 

"Meaning?" He snapped back at me, apparently oblivious to my raucous laughter. 

"I do believe, Gregory," said a smooth voice from behind him, "that she is referring to the way that you valiantly leapt to my rescue upon the exclamation of that soul-harrowing war cry." That was it for me. I laughed and laughed until the tears streamed down my face in torrents, eventually forcing my eyes to meet Mycroft's over Lestrade's shoulder. There was a glittery light shining in his pale blue irises, something I suspected that only myself and Lestrade were allowed to see. 

After I recovered from the hysterics, all I could think of was that silly 'What's Your Hogwarts House?' quiz that I had press-ganged Lestrade into taking. It had come up with the same house as the Marauders. From then on and after I made a show of doing for so, I named the incident 'Greg's Gryffindor Moment'. I still laugh about it, and occasionally Mycroft will spare half a smile, but Lestrade stoically refrains from amusement by using disdain - which makes it all the more funnier.


	3. Thorin x OC - One of Those Nights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a modern AU. Enjoy!

It was just one of those nights. She knew it would be one of those nights when she ended the FaceTime to her best friend at 11pm. It was then confirmed when she found herself laying upside down on her bed in a den of cushions, blankets and bathrobes with her air conditioner on full blast whilst listening to music. Riptide to be precise. 

She was looking through the pictures of her holiday to Scotland ~ she had come back the previous day. She was bored. Hale, the girl who did everything, who tried everything, who never did nothing. Hale was bored out of her mind. 

She could think of nothing to do, everything seemed more dull than it's predecessor. Hale appeared to be stuck in a whirlwind of nothing, a high tide of drowning boredom. It was at some point during these thoughts that her phone rang. She lazily flicked her eyes down at it ~ no caller ID. Fantastic. Her mother would disapprove of her answering it, but as Hale kept reminding her, she was 18. She could actually handle herself. 

She answered the phone with an uninterested "Hiya."

"Bored much?" Replied an unfamiliar voice. 

"Great deduction. How can you tell?" She noted carelessly.

"Want to do something fun?" Wait a minute ... something in her tired mind snapped.

"Wait a minute, I don't know who you are!" 

"'Course you do," he said, sounding amused. What?? 

"No, I don't," Hale raised her voice a little.

"Try and guess. Quite tall, long dark hair, left for the Iron Side in Scotland about 13 months ago? If you haven't forgotten me, I think you might have been a good friend of mine at some time ..." Hale's smile could not have grown any larger.

"Where are you?"

"Front door, obviously." Hale slammed the phone down and ran outside, oblivious of the bathrobe covering her bare shoulders and the fact that she was barefoot. She left the front door open behind her and leapt over the small box hedge like she always would as a kid, and straight into his arms. 

"God I missed you!" She yelled into his shoulder. "But your family moved to Scotland, how are you here?" He chuckled heartily.

"Just because my father decided to reclaim the old family home, doesn't mean I have to stay there now I'm 18," he stated fiercely, hugging her tightly.

"But you never texted or called! And you never replied to me!" She said as her voice broke, the tears now beginning to pour down her face. Hale pulled back to look him in the eyes. 

"My phone got smashed, so did the SD card. I couldn't remember your number for my life! I'm so, so sorry Hale... I texted all sorts of people thinking it could be your number, I got so many nasty replies that in the end I stopped trying. Please forgive me ..." It was then that she noticed the tears pooling in his own eyes.

"You idiot," she sobbed affectionately, "I've nothing to forgive." They embraced again, and remained that way for a long time, both content with holding each other and watching their breath mist in the late night coldness. Hale buried her face in the fur collar of his leather jacket before saying "I take it you told your cousin about this plan."

"What, Daín? Sure, I told him. He said that he couldn't agree more." Hale laughed.

"Hasn't changed a bit then," she smiled.

"Did you really think he could?" This resulted in them both curling up until they cried. 

"Thorin?" Hale whispered, looking up into his soft blue irises.

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

"I love you too."


	4. Grell + Reader - What Have You Done?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This doesn’t actually involve a romantic relationship, just, well ... you’ll see.

I backed out of the room, out to the hallway; what had I done? I was scared, yes, but more than that I felt empty, numb. What had I done?

Another step backwards and I realised that there was something dripping off of my hands. It was red. One more step backwards, but this time I stopped dead. I had walked into something, something that definitely wasn't there before. I felt a hand rest on my shoulder - a person, then. But was it?

A light breeze was pushing through the open doorway, flicking several strands of long, strikingly red hair around my shoulder and into my line of sight. Dreading what I would see, I slowly turned around, my eyes glued to the ground. When I looked up, I think I might have stopped breathing. A figure stood in front of me, a silhouette in the night time gloom of the house. It had always been my house, the place I grew up in. It seemed cold and different now, like a shouldn’t be there. 

My eyes traced the figure’s outline, from the red and black heeled boots, to the long red coat and finally to the red spectacles and closed eyes framed by elegant dark eyelashes. Something was resting across the person’s shoulders. It was held casually, I would have said, if it wasn't a massive chainsaw. 

I looked back to the faint outline of the glasses and watched in fear of what I would see as the person's eyes opened. That was it, that was when I knew. Whatever was standing in front of me was not human. No human's eyes are phosphorescent green double irises. No human's eyes glow in the dark. And no human has sharp teeth when they grin. 

“What - what are you?" I stammered, my whole body shaking and terrified for my life. 

“Humanity's worst nightmare," replied a voice which I decided belonged to a very feminine-sounding male. I would have backed away from him, but that would have meant going back into that room, and I would rather face the monster in front of me than go back. From the look on his face, he could practically taste my fear, and he was really enjoying it. I flinched as he lifted the chainsaw off his shoulders and started twirling it effortlessly between two fingers. "But not yours, I'm afraid. Not yet, anyway." Not mine? Did that mean he wasn't going to hurt me? "No..." he mused. "I'm here for the one in the next room. Not that you would know anything about that, I'm sure." The sentence ended in a threatening growl and I tried to swallow to speak, but my throat was too dry. All I could do was vigorously shake my head, my eyes wide. Another grin suffused his face and was immediately followed by a deep chuckle. "I thought as much." 

He started walking towards me but I was rooted to the spot. I really couldn't move. He stopped in front of me, lifting the chainsaw away from me so I wouldn't get hurt. I couldn't help but wonder why he did it. "You needn't worry," he told me, "I won't tell. But if I were you, I wouldn't stay here. You don't want to see this." A small nod was all I could muster in reply. When I failed to move, he gestured towards the front door - 'you leave before I go in'. A form of silent understanding seemed to pass between us and we both stepped around each other in sync. Him towards that room, and me towards the freedom of the door. I heard his footsteps go into the room, then come back out, just as I was about to step over the threshold. He spoke one last time. 

“Y/N..." I stopped to look over my shoulder, the sight before me saying I shouldn't have. Blood was sprayed across his face, colouring the chainsaw, covering his hands. The cinematic record was still swirling around him. "What have you done?"


	5. Tom Hiddleston x Reader - Encounter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first attempt at writing an actor, what do you think? And once again, there are NO ENDGAME SPOILERS!

You’d had the best day. You had travelled to London early in the morning, armed with Y/F/D, ready for almost anything. After a while of walking around and taking in the sights, you headed to as many fan stores as you could find, until you had bags of merchandise from your favourites fandoms. You had a small lunch, saving room for popcorn, then headed to the premiere of Avengers; Endgame. 

It was over three hours later when you came out again, but god that was an amazing film. You decided to walk around the beautiful city a little more, having dinner at Planet Hollywood and thoroughly enjoying it. It was when you turned down a quieter street, away from the madding crowds, that you suddenly realised how dark it had gotten. Upon checking your phone, you were shocked to find it was 10.45pm. It was dark, you were in a quiet place, you were alone. Not good. This realisation resulted in you quickly slipping into a newsagents that was about to close to ask the way to the nearest train station. 10 minutes tops. 

You had arrived at the bottom of the road the shop keeper had described to you and turned left as she’d suggested, but you were beginning to worry that the ‘10 minutes tops’ had come and gone. You frowned when you heard the noise of fast footsteps behind you as surreptitiously turned to see a person wearing all black and covering their face striding towards you, or at least in the same direction as you. You picked up your own pace to match, feeling a flicker of relief when you heard the noise of a main road. You were there in seconds but still couldn’t see the tube station and whoever was behind you was far closer than you would have liked them to be. 

The relief of finding a main road quickly flared into joy at the sight of the station. This elation was replaced almost immediately replaced by dread. It was on the other side of the road and traffic lights were green; you couldn’t cross without waiting for the lights. Your eyes glanced uneasily between the crossing and the entrance, which was how you noticed a strikingly tall man walking towards you from the other direction. Given your current situation, you started to panic, thinking rightly or wrongly that your untimely demise was imminent. You were broken out of this daze when the man walking towards you called out. 

“Are you alright?” He asked kindly, clipped but soft English accent ringing over the sidewalk. You faltered, torn between worrying about if this was some kind of trap or if the man was actually trying to help you. You stuttered, unable to form a sentence as you tried to weight up your options. “Oh of course, I’m so sorry. I’m Tom,” he introduced. At this point you were facing each other and he held his hand out to you. Shaking, you went to shake his hand only for Tom to pull you towards him and embrace you. You froze up but then noticed the other person hadn’t done anything. They were just standing, watching. “Tube station, yes?” Tom whispered so quietly that you barely heard him. Scared out of your mind you just nodded. “Alright, well tube stations tend to be a good place to start if you don’t know where to go, so shall we?” Again you nodded.

Unbeknownst to you, whilst you were talking he had pressed the button to stop the traffic so you could cross, which you did immediately. Tom looped his arm through yours which you didn’t really react to - as long it got you away from the other person. However you gripped his arm tightly when you realised they were sill following. Tom then whipped out a railcard, scanning it and shoving you through the gates almost before they had time to open, going through after you and narrowly avoiding having them close on him. 

You kept walking further into the station together, stopping only when you spun around to find that you were no longer being followed. You exhaled a huge sigh of relief, relaxing for the first time since you realised how late it was. 

“Thank you so much,” you started, “you absolutely saved me. I didn’t know what to - oh my god.” You cut yourself off after looking at your saviour in the stark lights of the tube station for the first time. “You’re Tom Hiddleston.” Tom’s eyebrows lifted slightly and a smirk pulled at his lips. 

“I am,” he confirmed, definitely amused now. 

“I-you’re-wow.” Tom’s smirk turned into a grin and he let out an adorable chuckle. 

“In any event, it’s no trouble. Did anything happen before I found you?” Once you assured him that the person hadn’t actually made a move, he smiled broadly. “I’m glad. In any event, where were you headed to? If you don’t mind my asking, that is.” You explained that you had been sightseeing and time had completely run away from you. You were planing on heading home, over an hour’s train journey away, but the encounter had left you quite unsettled. Tom, completely understanding, offered to go with you to get some tea whilst you calmed down. You gratefully accepted. 

It must have been somewhere around 1am and you were still sitting in an all-night (as luck would have it) cafe with Tom. You thanked him profusely, offered to pay even as he vehemently declined and ensured him that you would be perfectly fine to get back to your house now. 

“I’m glad I could help,” he smiled, “But what are you doing tomorrow?” After thinking for a moment and deciding you had nothing on, the smile turned to a grin. “Then why don’t you meet me here again tomorrow? If you need a guide to the city I’m sure I’d be able to suffice.” 

“Really? That would be fantastic! Are you sure you don’t mind?” He told you it would be his honour, then insisted on walking you to the correct train. You thanked him once again then hugged him to say goodnight, smiling as you got on the train. For the whole journey home, all you could think of was that you were going to see Tom Hiddleston.


	6. Undertaker x Reader - Death Scythe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I admit I used some ideas from Book of the Atlantic for this, so if you haven’t read/watched it, potential spoilers ahead.

“Undertaker!" You screamed, pelting down the length of the shop and darting between coffins to get to him in time. "Why don't you all just back off?!" You were furious. Undertaker had never done anything wrong, anything to deserve to be an outcast. Equally, neither had you, which was probably why you two had ended up together.   
       
You jumped in front of him, arms spread out to protect him. You felt rather than saw Undertaker's surprise at your rash actions, but you really didn't care. Now facing you stood William T Spears, Grell Sutcliff and Ronald Knox. All with their death scythes raised.   
       
“According to-" William began, but you immediately cut him off.  
       
“I don't care." William's entire being seemed to stiffen and he adjusted his glasses with his scythe, slowly narrowing his eyes.  
       
“Pardon?" The reaper asked, a dangerous edge to his voice.   
       
“Y/N..." Undertaker warned softly in your ear, "Don't." He whispered these two words so that only you would hear, in a voice you had never known him to use. It was deeper and more commanding than his usual cackling tone, and spoke calmly without a hint of humour. Anger clouding ration, you chose to ignore him.   
       
“I said 'I don't care'," you snapped. "I don't care about you, or your pathetic death scythes or-"  
       
“How dare you?!" Grell screeched suddenly, firing up his chainsaw and effectively cutting off both your rant and Ronald's protested cry of "And who do you think you are?!". "You do not insult a reaper's scythe!"   
       
“Much as I do hate to agree with the idiot, he's right!" Added William, who promptly ignored said reaper when he started blushing and exclaiming "Oh, Will!" Although Ronald was also suitably upset, he refrained from getting too involved as he had to admit, at least to himself, that he found you attractive.   
       
“Then you'll find you have a problem with me," you growled defensively, "Not him." At this you jabbed an angry thumb over your shoulder in the general direction of Undertaker.  
       
“Well unfortunately for you," Grell replied hotly, "We do!" At this moment, the three reapers simultaneously launched themselves at you, and even if Ronald did hold back a bit, it was still a terrifying sight. It was then that it occurred to you that through your blinding anger, you hadn't realised you were unarmed. You covered your face with your hands in a pathetic attempt to protect yourself. You were expecting the worst. What you weren't expecting was nothing. Your eyes flew open - you were unaware you had closed them - to see Undertaker's face right in yours. His arms were raised behind his head and you realised he was holding a satoba* to protect you. What amazed you was the fact that none of the reapers' death scythes would cut through it.  
       
“What...?" You whispered, looking up to the man in front of you. He grinned back before lifting one hand off of the satoba and pushing it back through his bangs, thus allowing you to see his eyes for the first time. Fluorescent green and yellow, double irises, a satoba that even Grell's death scythe couldn't cut through ... oh my god. The man you loved was a shinigami**.  
       
Time itself seemed to slow whilst you two stared into each other's eyes. The moment was broken when Undertaker, with what seemed like little to no effort, flicked the satoba back and threw all three reapers across the room.   
       
“Impossible..." Ronald breathed, panting heavily.  
       
“Or at least it should be. How do you still have that?" William was regarding Undertaker cautiously, assessing the situation. You had glanced away from him for a moment and stepped so that you were standing next to him, but when you looked back, you gasped. The satoba was gone, and in it's place, a death scythe was slung across Undertaker's shoulders. It had a handle made from a human skeleton, and was almost as long as Undertaker was tall. There was a massive, wickedly sharpened blade on the end, over half the length of the handle.

“I'll admit, it took some convincing for headquarters to let me keep it. But you see, I had simply become so attached to it ... Now if the three of you don't mind, I think it's time you take your leave. Good day," he finished, waving an arm in the general direction of the door. Grell and Ronald were wearing looks of unbridled fury, and even William's ever-calm exterior was hiding strong anger. 

“Make no mistake," the reaper warned, "This will not be the last you hear of what has happened today. Either of you."

“I'm sure," Undertaker replied before standing to close the door behind them. At some point during the exchange, you had sat down on top of one of the many coffins. Undertaker strode back over to you, about to sit down and wrap his arms around you as he always would, but then he hesitated. You turned to face him, studying both his eyes and the weapon he still held. Despite being a lady, you had always been fascinated by weapons, but had never seen one as large as that before you now. Knowing this and never breaking eye contact, Undertaker reached forward and gently grasped your hand, running it down the side of the blade once then letting go, silently telling you that you could touch it. You were in awe of the scythe - the sheer size and grandeur of it was almost overwhelming. 

“Incredible..." you breathed, much to Undertaker's amusement. 

“You're not scared, then?" You frowned slightly.

“Of what?" You whispered, your hand pausing on his deadly scythe. 

“Me." 

“You? No! No, of course I'm - I'm not!" To your dismay, emotion was clouding your voice. The Shinigami smiled slightly - he didn't roar with laughter in his usual and slightly maniacal way - he simply gave a small, genuine smile. 

“Then you're one of the few." Neither of you said anything for a moment, surrounded by a comfortable silence. Wordless, Undertaker wrapped an arm around your shoulders and drew you closer to him, guiding your head to rest on his chest. You leaned on him, perfectly content, knowing that he would always protect you, and you him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brief note;  
> *Satoba - a Satoba is an inscribed piece of wood used during a traditional Japanese funeral.   
> **Shinigami - of course we all know this already, but if you happen to be interested, the literal translation is death god.


	7. Mephisto + OC - Teamwork, or Lack Thereof

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I tried a new thing in this chapter; I attempted to write a script. How do you think I did?

(Fiona, Mephisto (dog form), Yukio and the rest of the cram school students sit in a classroom. Yukio's teaching was interrupted when Fiona decided these classes were too boring for her and began stating her true opinions of teamwork)

Fiona; Pfft. Teamwork. Useless proposition. 

Yukio; Actually, Duff-san-

Bon; Useless?! Then why are you even here?!

Fiona; My experience of teams, except in a very few limited cases, is that they always let you down and leave you standing alone on the front line. 

Mephisto (dog form, in a tone that most wouldn't notice was slightly hurt); That's slightly unfair, don't you think, Fi?

Fiona; Umm no? And why are you getting upset anyway? 

Bon; The hell?? That dog just spoke!

Rin; Upset? How could you tell ...?

Mephisto; Well you've worked with me plenty of times, I've never heard you complain previously...

Fiona (sighing loudly); Working with you doesn't count. 

Mephisto; Oh? In which case, you have my apologies. And why would that be?

Fiona; You said teamwork. When we work together, we work in a pair. A pair and a team are two entirely different things. 

Mephisto; Alright then, what about when we worked with Fujimoto? 

(The atmosphere in the room changes. Rin visibly stiffens, everyone is shocked at what they have just heard) 

Fiona; Working with Shiro and you were the very few limited cases that I was talking about. 

Rin; No way! You knew my old man?!

Fiona; Knew him? 'Course I knew him. Why's that so surprising?

Rin; But ... knew him ... You're at school with us! And you said you worked with him as well? How is that even possible?! 

Fiona; Oh, come on, Mepphy. Didn't you tell the kid anything? 

Shima; 'Mepphy'? You gotta be kidding me ... 

Mephisto; I told him what I thought it was necessary for him to know. The rest will all come in time. 

Fiona; Right ... 

Yukio (apologetically); Excuse me for interrupting this ... conversation ... but you knew Father Fujimoto?

Fiona (reflective for a moment); Yeah, I did Yukio. He was a ... he was an awesome guy. 

Yukio; I would just like to ask one thing, if you don't mind ...

Fiona; Sure, go ahead.

Yukio; Well, for once, my brother actually made a good point earlier, when he -

Fiona; Said about me working with Shiro and being at school now? Yeah ... so basically, I never really learned exorcism in this sense, I just happen to be able to kill demons and use a sword. Mepphy thought my enrolment might be a good idea, if I'm honest ... 

Rin (amazed); Seriously? And you did what he said? You don't seem the type! I mean ... well it's just that I didn't know older people could enrole ... no, no! I just mean that people who aren't kids and I think I'm just gonna shut up now. 

Fiona; Good idea. 

Mephisto; Eloquently said. (Turns to Yukio) And now that the cat's out of the bag, so to speak, I think it would be good to continue with the lesson, hm?

Yukio (surprised pause, he had momentarily forgotten about the lesson); Ye-yes. Of course.

Fiona; Tell ya what, I'm out. So far I've been told that exorcism is based on teamwork, which for me it isn't, how to identify various demons of multiple calibers, which I can already do, as well as how to form magic circles and recite passages, neither of which actually apply to me as I am neither a Tamer or an Aria. So, I'll come back when they decide to teach us Dragoon and Knight stuff, and if I find out something I didn't already know, I'll stay. In the meantime, I'm fairly certain that I can find something fun to do instead. Like killing the high-level demon that just started attacking the academy. 

Rin/Shima/Bon; What?!

Mephisto (calmly); Nice try Fi, but you're well aware that can't happen.

Fiona; I can dream, can't I?! Anywho, I'm fairly certain that I can find something a bit more entertaining.

Mephisto; Very well, come with me then. 

Fiona; Gladly. Cheers, Yukio! 

 

Mephisto jumped up from the bench he had been sat on as a dog, then 'eins, zwei, drei'ed' himself back to his human form. He proceeded to stride out of the room, Fiona keeping pace, and leaving behind them a room full of very confused teenagers.


	8. Thranduil - Shattered Ice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn’t a relationship story, also, angst!!

An imposing figure sat upon a darkened throne nestled in amongst living tree roots that formed a misty cavern. The throne was as grand as the room surrounding it, a pale staircase leading up to it and massive elk antlers stretching from the top. There were intricate tunnels and pathways leading to this room, the throne room, belonging to none other than King Thranduil of the woodland realm. 

His dull glacier blue eyes surveyed the room again, taking in every detail of each precise carving, as he had done hundreds of times before. More so than ever, after ... her. The mother of Legolas, his wife. She was a constant miss, Thranduil could never get her out of his head. 

Her eyes shone as though reflecting a sunset, even on the darkest night or the cloudiest day. Her hair fell in blond waves down her back, reaching just below her waist as though it were a golden waterfall on a midsummer's eve. Her voice rang out above all others, her laugh was sakura blowing in a gentle breeze. 

She had always been there for Thranduil, right from when they were very little and Oropher still ruled Mirkwood. Oropher didn't approve of his son's choice, but Thranduil didn't care. 

He knew she was the one for him when he first met her. She was his entire world, then it was all torn to shreds as though by some dreaded beast. But he still had a kingdom to rule, a son to care for. Except he couldn't. He couldn't bare to look young Legolas in the eye. Not when he knew that, although it was her choice, his son was the reason she was dead. He had servants look after his son, and would lash out at the few who would dare to question him. It was all Thranduil could do to keep himself together in public, to keep the kingdom going.

He would be able to talk to his son one day, he told himself, but it would not be today. Or the next day. Or the next. Thranduil shook his head. He couldn't stand the tornado of emotion trapped within his mind and keep up the facade of serenity and authority to those who looked upon him. She would have been able to tell, simply by looking him in the eyes. She could see and pick out each and every emotion flitting just beneath icy irises. She would have walked up next to him, eyes glued to the floor and quietly muttered "A break I   
think. Do you?" Which was their code for one needing to talk to the other about something.

Once the pair were alone in their chambers. She would have quietly whispered, "Are you alright, my love?" And in his current emotional turmoil, which didn't occur more than once in a hundred years, he would have bitten his tongue to keep from wailing, and silently, his eyes would have filled up with liquid. She would have pretended not to notice the flood threatening to spill over from his eyes, and instead, would gently hold her arms out to him, and have him all but collapse on to her, both of them holding each other tightly. She would quietly sooth him, and he would say, in a voice that uncannily betrayed no emotion, "You know I'm fine, don't you?" His wife would smile knowingly, but keep up the pretence that she didn't think he was sobbing into her shoulder. "Of course you are, my dear," she would softly reply. An onlooker would have thought that nothing was wrong. 

But she wasn't here. That was only a fantasy of things that were, a mere two days ago.

The sound of two pairs of footsteps brought him out of his head, and he realised he was crouched on the lowest step leading up to his throne, sobbing openly. He quickly stood and tried to wipe the tears from his face, but he fooled neither the guard accompanying his guest nor the guest himself ~ a certain, grey~robed wizard. 

Thranduil shot a look at the guard. "Go," he whispered, in an attempt to keep his voice as hard as always. When the guard just stood and stared, Thranduil raised his voice. "Go!" He rasped out, portraying to all that he was distraught. The guard snapped out of it, bowed low and left. 

The elven king tried to bite his lip to stop the tears, when Gandalf, with a kind expression, said "It's alright. No one will know because of me." Thranduil gazed at the elderly man with a mixture of astonishment and gratitude for a second, before completely breaking down. 

He collapsed on the steps of his throne, and wailed with so much emotion that one would be forgiven for crying themselves. Gandalf proceeded to slowly walk up to the broken king, and sit next to him on the step. The wizard put an arm about Thranduil's shoulders, and let the great king cry on his shoulder to his heart's content.


	9. Bofur x Reader - Rant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a fluffy short because Reader is having a bad day and needs comfort. Making up for the Thranduil angst ...

You were walking through the newly rebuilt city of Dale. You, along with the rest of the company, had just about recovered from the Battle of the Five Armies. Thorin had been crowned King, despite various injuries, as well as the survival and recovery of both of his nephews. You had always gotten on with all of the company, but most of all, Bofur. There was, however, a problem. As much as you and the company liked each other well enough, you never really fit in. 

It never occurred to you that once Dale and Erebor were rebuilt, the same situation would be true. 

As you went through the old cobble streets, making your way to the market, people were quite literally ignoring you, and refused to reply when you wished them a 'good morning'. You received multiple glares and were beginning to feel bad about yourself. By the time you had arrived at the stall you were planning on buying your lunch from, you were quite upset. It was the last straw when the vendor refused to serve you.

By now, you were fuming, and had slammed your fist down on the table in front of the vendor, and stormed off. At first you had no particular direction, but then you realised you would have to vent to someone. The first person who came to mind was Bofur. You mentally apologised to Bofur; you knew how much of a problem you were when you were mad. Muttering away to yourself under you breath, you barely paid any attention to where you were walking, and had soon arrived at the dwarf’s small toy shop. 

You paused temporarily. Usually, before you went into the cute little shop, you made a concerted effort to look at all of the gorgeous wooden toys displayed in the window. You also loved to watch the joyful faces of the young children with their parents when they came here. Bofur didn't have any shop assistants, and he didn't employ anyone to help make the toys. He made sure to serve each and every child and their families, telling the children a little story about the life of the toy which, more often than not, would become the child's favourite.

You tried to concentrate on these happy feelings, focusing on how you felt all of those times as you looked through the windows. It didn't work. You were still fuming when you stalked into the safe and happy haven that was the shop. Luckily, there were no customers present, and Bofur was readying to temporarily close for lunch. 

"(Y/N)!" He called happily, smiling as he regarded you. He went to move forward, but stopped. "What's wrong?" You immediately began ranting on and on about how you were having a terrible day, and how everything had gone wrong. You gave Bofur a blow-by-blow account of your day, during which he had put up a polite notice on the door to say he would be back soon, after having had lunch. He had also prepared said lunch, two portions so that you could have some as well. 

Bofur gently placed the bowl of rough vegetable soup on the oak table in front of you and after glaring at it, you began stabbing the food with a fork. Rather viciously, you devoured it, before slamming your cutlery down on the table. That final act really finished you off, and you suddenly felt really tired.

"I'm sorry, Bofur," you told him quietly, "It just ... hasn't been going well for me recently." You glanced up to the other side of the table, only to find you had been talking to thin air. You sighed and laid your head on the table in defeat. You must have dozed off, for when you awoke, your head was resting comfortably on a pillow and you were covered by several blankets.


	10. Best friend!Lestrade + Reader - A Fist Fight With the Law

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I say ‘+ Lestrade’, but there’s a fairly equal amount of the usual suspects in here. Also a bit of Mystrade. Enjoy!

We stared at each other across the room, each panting in immeasurable rage. Someone really should have seen this coming, to be honest. Lestrade jumped to his feet, throwing out a hand in front of Mycroft. The politician deftly caught it and flicked it aside. Sherlock flew in front of me, arms raised and reminiscent of a defensive set of wings. I remained still and let him run towards me, then put my considerable strength to use. 

Every muscle tensed and ready, I grabbed the sociopath's arms, holding him back surprisingly successfully. With a guttural roar, I heaved Sherlock aside, managing to floor him. John screeched and leapt to the ground beside him, making sure he was alright. Of course he was - I hadn't genuinely injured him. In sync and in a similar fashion, Mycroft and I took a step closer to each other, then another. Lestrade tried again.

With single stride, he was between us with a hand up to each of us. We simultaneously ignored him. 

"What did you just say?" Mycroft asked lowly, voice dripping poison and similar to the cracking of ice and lightening.

"You heard me." The look he gave me would have made a person with a lesser mindset cry, but my reaction was fight, not flight. However, my best friend did see that one coming, which is how I ended up in a fairly damaging (for both sides) fist fight with Lestrade. John had decreed that both the bleeding in and the strange angle of my nose suggested that it was broken, and the police officer had acquired two black eyes, both of which were now covered by a frozen bag of peas (or at least they used to be, Sherlock was attempting to steal the bag for some form of experiment). 

I was sprawled on one end of the Baker Street sofa, clutching both my head and a pack of paracetamol. Lestrade was on the other end, holding the peas over his eyes with Mycroft perched on the arm, still giving me a death glare. Sherlock seemed to be in some kind of yoga position in his usual chair, fingers steepled beneath his chin. John remained silently rigid in his own armchair and Mrs. Hudson was flitting about between everyone, eventually leaving the room on the pretence of making tea when Mycroft produced a mild glare in her general direction that was not nearly half as bad as the one he'd been giving me the entire time. After a while, I decided I should probably say something.

"Lestrade?" I muttered, my reply a quiet 'hmm'. "Apologies." I turned to face him, and he moved the peas to look at me in return. I produced a jokingly hopeful grin, which resulted in both of us laughing at how ridiculous our current situation was. 

"S'fine," he replied, "but you need to do something about the fact that you take ‘fight or flight’ way too seriously."

"Says the person who broke my nose." 

"Didn't give me a choice. Sorry though..."

"No big deal," I assured him. I then glanced over at Mycroft, wondering why he was still looking at me like that. The ice increased tenfold when he caught my gaze, as though he'd read my thoughts. I made a 'well what?' gesture, to which he responded harshly.

"If you ever lay a finger on him again I will break you." My eyebrow raised, I had no control over the thing.

"Threats a usual thing with you?" This was the only response I could come up with, at least slightly shocked that he’d deemed what had just happened necessary for such a threat. 

"I mean every word. It is well within my power to have it done." He replied shortly. I snorted in false laughter. 

"Forgive me for saying so, but 'well within my power'? What on Earth is that supposed to mean? And like you could actually injure me. It’s only by luck that Lestrade managed it and that was three against one." He drew back his upper lip in a sneer, ignoring my jibes. 

"Might I remind you would do well to remember to whom exactly you are speaking ..." Mycroft growled lowly, a second and not-very-veiled threat in his words. 

"Oh yeah? Then tell me; /to whom exactly am I speaking/?"

"The British Government," Sherlock cut in, before Mycroft would have a chance to really make me pay for impersonating his posh accent. I gave the detective a disbelieving look in answer to his statement. "When he's not too busy being the British Secret Service or the CIA." I frowned, more confused than ever.

"It's true," John added, "He kidnapped me to try and bribe me into spying on Sherlock for money when I first moved in here."

"Did the same to me in the beginning," Lestrade commented. The consulting detective gave me a look that said 'I told you'. Unsure of what to say, I turned back to Mycroft, who was more than just a little smug at what the assembled party at Baker Street had just informed me.


	11. Ronald Knox x Reader - Nickname

You, once again, had ended up involved in yet another problem with the shinigami. You weren't entirely sure what had happened - it was something to do with the young earl and his butler, Sebastian. And of course the lot of them had decided that your Manor best place to congregate and discuss the best plan of action.   
When someone rang the bell at front door and you had answered it in your bathrobe and pyjamas, you had not been expecting the site that greeted you. Upon opening up, you found Ronald, Undertaker, Grell and William having one of the most raucous 'discussions' about the best course of action you had ever seen. That was several hours ago. They were all still sat around your dining table with cold cups of half-empty tea and coffee.   
You had long since given up on trying to play mediator and prevent needless arguments, and it seemed Ronald was feeling the same. Whilst Grell was in the process of launching himself over the table to strangle Undertaker and William was giving them both death glares, the young reaper had managed to slip away unnoticed. You looked up from your book, quietly laughing as he stuck his tongue out and motioned cutting his throat.   
"Still that bad, huh Knox?" You asked casually, having zoned out of the 'conversation' to read.   
"Should've followed your lead and joined you much earlier, Miss," he joked, winking at you flamboyantly. Grinning, you shook your head. He always insisted on calling you that, despite the fact that you two had known each other for ages and you may have had a small (small, only small!! Only small ...) crush on him.   
"Honestly Knox, you do know what my name is, don't you?"   
"As a matter of fact, I do."   
"So why do you never use it?" Ronald seemed to think for a moment before a grin made its way onto his face.  
"Tell you what; I'll call you Y/N if you call me Ron."   
"If I'm using a nickname for you then you'll have to call me N/N. Good?" You watched as he sat in the armchair next to you, smile growing.  
"Excellent, N/N." You grinned, glad to finally hear your name leave his lips. However what you didn't notice was the grin turning into a mischievous smirk. "Hey, N/N," he whispered conspiratorially, leaning forwards slightly.   
"Yeah?" You whispered back, enjoying messing about with him. He sat up straight suddenly, then beckoned you over.   
"Come here." Laughing, you did as he asked, standing in front of him. He moved forwards again as if he was going to say something else but instead grabbed you and pulled you to sit on his lap. You let out a - in his opinion - very cute squeak, before whisper-shouting "Ron!" In an attempt to not draw the attention of the other reapers. You were about to say something else when he silenced you by placing a small, loving kiss upon your lips. Ecstatic as you were, you were also dumbfounded. Ronald Knox just kissed you? He actually liked you?   
"I think I love you, N/N," Ronald said slightly breathlessly, almost as if he'd never said those words before and meant them.   
"Really?" You replied jokingly, "'Cause I think I love you too."


	12. Thorin + Reader - Problem?

Thorin had tried. He had tried so hard to keep his remaining extended family and the survivors of Moria together. He had brought them on this quest, and they had willingly come. And then, she appeared. She wasnt welcome on his quest, and she knew it, but she insisted to Gandalf she should come. Like she had some sort of right. 

She was infuriating. With her swirling (h/c) locks and those gleaming eyes. She didnt look like she would last a day alone in the wild. Which made the fact that she fought off the three trolls even more annoying. I hate her, he thought stubbornly to himself.

What is his problem? You wondered to yourself, eyeing the brooding prince. He always seemed to be upset about something and had a terrible temper! You understood that hed had many bad experiences in his lifetime, but he was not the only one with a history, and neither you, nor the rest of the company spent all your time brooding.

He appeared to be in an especially bad tonight, for as everyone else made camp, yourself included, he just stared out to beyond where the sun had long since set. It annoyed you to the ends of the earth that he just sat there. He wouldnt help, he wouldnt even do anything. Your thoughts must have made your face contort into a glare, for after you looked away from him, Balin made his way over to you.

"Alright, lass?" he asked in a kindly tone, but by now, you were fuming.

"Why does he just sit there?" you hissed, "He doesn't help build camp, or or anything else, he just gives out orders and then stares into the horizon!" Your fiery gaze moved down from the prince to Balin, who was chuckling knowingly.

"What!" You cried, unable to keep your voice down, and glaring out at all of the company when they stopped to stare. 

"If I were you," Balin advised, "I'd go talk to him." Your gaze travelled back to Thorin. You turned to ask Balin what he meant, but the elderly dwarf had already struck up conversation with someone else. You sighed and went back to organising your few possessions. 

A bit later on, when the rest of the company (apart from Thorin, of course) were sat around the camp fire eating supper, you decided you would take Balins advice. You would talk to the prince. Not particularly sure of yourself, but acting like you were, you strode up to him. 

Thorin glanced up from his small bowl of soup. Oh mahal, he thought, give me patience because here she comes. He wondered about just getting up and walking off, but then she would follow him, and the rest of the company would get involved. Better to just stay here, he decided. Her heavy boot falls stopped right on front of him. Groaning internally and pointedly dropping the spoon back into the bowl, he glanced up at her from beneath dark eyebrows.

You briefly shut your eyes, steeling yourself for the bad response you would get, and wondering first of all why Balin had decided to give advice, and secondly why you had taken it. Sighing deeply, you looked down at him and caught his gaze. He narrowed his eyes and went back to his soup. 

You gritted your teeth, now very indignant. 

"Mind if I sit down?" you asked sarcastically, doing so before he had an opportunity to reply.

Why? He thought to himself. Maybe if I just keep eating, she'll take a hint and go away. A sudden, sharp question drew him from his reverie.

"What is your problem?" you asked. The second the words left your mouth, you regretted them. Surreptitiously, you bit the inside of your cheek, trying to gage his reaction. But he never said anything. Thorin, the leader of the company, the prince and rightful king of Erebor, simply stood up and left.

You watched, dumbfounded, as his back retreated into the darkening woods. You snapped out of your confusion quickly, and realised, should dare think the words, you would have to apologise. You stood up and ran after him into the woods, trying to be as prepared as possible for anything. 

My problem. My problem? What would she know about having any kind of history. How would she know what it is like to live with the death and madness of your grandfather on your conscience? The unknown location of a father who everyone thinks is dead! 

You couldn't blame Thorin for his angry words; he didn't know you were there. 

"And having to lead the remaining twelve of your people to certain death. Knowing that should something happen to your nephews; your sister will never forgive you. That should the three of you not make it, she would be all alone. Alternately, how about knowing you were forced from the only home you had ever known and had been banished. Never being able to return. Knowing you had been forced away from every friend and family member, by no less than a family member himself. Being forced to survive alone in the wild, after having never so much as been on a camping trip, at a mere fifteen years of age!"

Disgusted by the tears that still fell all these years later and despising them even more so for allowing them to fall in front of the rightful King under the Mountain, you swung away. Your (e/c) and darkly hooded eyes burning, you stormed over to the nearest old oak tree and began hacking away at it with a wickedly sharpened blade. You only stopped when you felt a large hand place on your shoulder. With a low growl, you yanked your sword from its bark and faced Thorin. 

"Well?" you tried to snap, but it came out more like a whimper. You gritted your teeth.

"I ... I didn't know," he replied in a low voice. "Sometimes it is hard to know when someone has a bad past, when they have learned to be so adept at hiding it." He dropped his gaze slightly, for only a second or two, before removing his hand from your shoulder and striding back to camp. Silent.


	13. Mycroft + OC - Abducted

It was later on during the night, possibly somewhere around 10pm, when I began the long walk back to my double cab flatbed. I had decided to investigate London's nightlife, or possibly lack thereof, as I had only just moved to the city outskirts. This had resulted in visiting several pubs, all fairly similar and lacking in the Scottish fervour to which I had become accustomed. I was still perfectly sober, after only having drank glass after glass of cola. 

This city seemed not to sleep, although I noticed the amount of traffic which didn't include taxis and police cars had dramatically reduced. There was only the occasional groan of the vehicles passing by the sidewalk. That was until my senses picked up on a car pulling up behind me. I didn't increase my pace or glance around to see it, mainly because I knew I could floor whoever it was in a matter of seconds if necessary. I was also carrying my umbrella, which may not sound like a decent weapon, but it was decidedly more modified than it was when I bought it. I had acquired black Kevlar to reinforce the fabric sections to make it like a bulletproof shield. Bulky it may be, but this feature had saved my life more than once. And the usual blunt point on the end was actually a plastic casing which housed a wickedly sharpened iron blade - this was also detachable, lest it came to hand-to-hand combat.

In any event, it became apparent that the car was crawling along the tarmac at an equal pace to my own, not stopping. Firstly, I wondered if I was in fact the person that they thought I was. The engine's purr made it clear to me that it was a very expensive car and, considering that there wasn't a hint of colour being reflected by the lights of the various bars I had walked past, it was probably black. Likely to be something official. The very sentence made my stomach jump and my imagination take flight. I would play my part in whatever was going on, mainly because the mere mention of my life taking an exciting twist made me ecstatic. 

As suddenly as the car had approached, the engine cut out and I heard a door open. I twirled around on the heel of one heavy fur boot and strode up to the smartly suited woman who had climbed out. She held a blackberry and was typing into it furiously even as I stood in front of her. I felt my upper lip curl backwards in a silent snarl as she continued to ignore me.

"Well hurry it up then," growled my broad Scot's accent, "I've not got all night."

"You are coming then?" she replied in Queen's English, bothering for a moment to glance up at me. 

"I assumed ya wanted me to? If not, I'll just leave ya to it." I put on a well-practiced act of impatience and stalked off in the general direction of my truck. 

"No, wait!" she called, and I turned to face her, smirking. So she had been sent by someone to collect me, and there were consequences to be suffered if she failed. Instead of walking back over, I leant to one side on my umbrella. She paused suddenly, a flash of a memory seeming to cross her eyes before she extinguished it like an oxygen-deprived flame. She shot my confidence a dark look before walking towards me with a rhythmic tapping of her black heels. The driver pulled the shining right-hand drive Mustang the extra few feet to where we were standing. The woman got into the back passenger side of the car before stating "Get into the car, please, Miss Duff," and slamming the door. Rolling my eyes at the dramatics, I went to the driver's side and got in. 20 minutes later and the car pulled up inside an obviously abandoned warehouse.

I stepped out quickly, knowing I would only be annoyed when that woman told me to do so. Standing a fair way in front of the car was a man who was quite tall and dressed in an immaculate suit. I grinned openly upon taking in his stance, the woman's look of recognition from earlier becoming clear. He was leaning to the side, propped up on a navy umbrella with a bamboo handle. The three-piece suit was the same colour, and a pocket watch chain looped from inside the right half of his suit to a pocket on the left. He had a dark crimson tie and strikingly auburn hair, the colour of which wasn't quite as bright as my own. Seeing my grin, he cocked his head to the side ever so slightly. I was pleased that my original assumption of government-officials was confirmed. A high up and extremely well-to-do government official by the looks of things.

My long strides took me over the space of the warehouse in a matter of seconds. I stood slightly in front of a chair which had clearly been placed there for my use, but I was fairly determined to do exactly the opposite of what was expected of me. I mirrored the man's position and my earlier one whilst waiting for the car to pull up beside me, my normally 5ft10in stance was only 2 inches shorter than him in the large boots I was wearing. We seemed to be having a silent battle of who could give out the air of most control. 

"I just have one request," I told him, to a gentle arching of one slender eyebrow. "I refuse to have this conversation, despite the fact yer probably recordin' it, with a car, its' driver an' yer personal assistant sittin' behind me."

"You realise, of course, that the cars' purpose is to drive you back to the park containing your pathetic excuse of a truck.

"There's nothin' wrong with my flatbed!" I hissed defensively, "an' I'm perfectly capable of takin' myself back to it."

"Oh," he stated in an almost unnoticeably higher pitch, "forgive my common courtesies." He gave a slight nod in the Mustang's general direction. It promptly reversed, and I listened to its progress away from the warehouse before continuing.

"Go on then." The man's expression changed not a millimetre, but my sixth sense picked up a slight air of his surprise around us. 

"You have, if I'm not mistaken, recently moved to London?" I let out an undignified snort and laughed in spite of myself.

"Oh, please. Ya know I came here five days ago, ya know what my profession is, what my name is, and exactly why ya brought me here. Do forgive me if I'm wrong," I added mockingly. His eyes narrowed a fraction.

"Professional taxidermist and osteologist, home run business in the same area. Kiarna Duff. Single. Lives alone. You have a wolf which is registered as a wolf hybrid because you know it-"

"He." The man visibly ground his teeth.

"Because you know he is technically illegal. You have an unhealthy sense of protection towards the mobile biohazard which you appear to call a truck. You do not trust people and you do not have friends." I raised my eyebrows and dropped one corner of my mouth in a gesture of acceptance.

"Okay, well done. But unfair considerin' the amount of background checks you've done. My turn." At this point, I stood up stock-straight and took a few slow steps towards him. I then began to circle around him in a manner that everyone I had done it to found off putting, but to his credit, he never moved or tried to look at me. "Yer a high rankin' government official. Possibly one of the highest. Yer devoid of relationships, ya think they get in the way of yer job - besides, they take up too much time. Ya live alone with no pets. I assume ya have some sorta top notch car, but ya prefer to get chauffeured around by a veritable team of drivers with an army of their own top notch cars. Ya can call on them at any time. Like me, ya don't trust people. Like me, ya don't have friends." I bared my teeth in a sarcastic grin. 

He gave me an unreadable look as I stopped my walking to stand before him. "Most people would have asked for a name."

"Didn't think you'd bless me with one." I noticed the corner of his mouth lift nearly imperceptibly.

"They do say that sarcasm is the lowest form of wit."

"Wonder what that says about me. Nothin' good, I'm sure. Anyway, what's all this about?"

"You've not worked it out yet?" He put on a false tone of surprise.

"Surprisingly enough, no." Already a fairly impatient person, and still a little annoyed at his assistant, I huffed loudly. "If you've got somethin' to say, kindly say it. It's cold an' I've got a wolf to look after."

"Interesting..." he noted to himself. "I wished to ask you if you have come into contact with one Sherlock Holmes."

"As in the kid who nearly knocked me over after shovin' a constable out of the way to get to a murder scene? That Sherlock Holmes?"

"Yes. That Sherlock Holmes."

"Any particular reason why ya care?" He paused for a moment, his lips tightening slightly. The penny suddenly dropped and I grinned like some kind of psychopath. "Ah. He's yer brother." The ice-blue glare I received matched the one that I myself was capable of, a feat which was hard to perform. 

"You say one word of this, and I swear it will be the last thing that ever leaves your lips," he growled furiously, in a tone that plainly told me that he was not the type of person who needed to make empty threats. I cocked my head to the side, wondering why he was refusing to say why I was here. "You needn't look like that, you know why you are here."

"Ya want me to spy on Sherlock. But if I can inject my opinion, yer completely capable of spyin' on him yourself. Why're ya askin' me?

"I do not partake in legwork. Especially not involving my brother. I would pay you handsomely, enough per piece of information to pay for a month's worth of your diesel." I blinked, contemplating. He just had to throw in the Amarok as leverage. His eyes flickered slightly, he could see I was hesitating.

"Ya realise I've only met him the once?" I asked, attempting to buy myself time.

"Whilst that is true, you are affiliated with one Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade, meaning you will have many more encounters with Sherlock. And as you've already mentioned, you hardly know him." I sighed, knowing I was beaten. 

"Ya make a compelling argument, I'll give ya that. Fine I'll do it. Happy?"

"Extremely. We'll be in contact." I sighed - always something to look forward to. After informing Sherlock's brother of this fact, and jokingly giving a salute, I walked out of the warehouse to begin the long trek back to my truck. 

Well, I thought, at least something fun is finally happening.


	14. Grell + Reader - Where Am I?

For me, the lines between fantasy and reality have always been blurred. I might, for example, ask people about something that happened the previous week. More often than not they would become confused and I would suddenly remember that it only happened in a dream. Sometimes, I would be having an ordinary conversation with someone, and suddenly know what they would say next and what my reply would be. I would distinctly remember the conversation taking place previously. However, despite dreaming vividly every night and thinking the events to be reality, despite remembering conversations that haven't happened yet, the one thing I didn't expect to distort my reality even further was a knock at the door to my home, ______ Manor, and a voice calling out "Oh, Bassy?! Are you here, darling?!"]

 

I shook my head frantically, trying to clear away that voice - it couldn't be real, it wasn't possible. But at the same time, it had sounded exactly like -  
"Come now, my love! You wouldn't keep a lady waiting!" A figment of my imagination or not, I decided that the only thing I could do was go and investigate (armed with an antique yet still fully functioning 1700's rifle, of course). I ran full pelt from the kitchen and raced down several corridors to the front door, entirely unsure of what to expect. My hand paused on the key, but I then thought I was being daft. After all, this wasn't real.   
The door swung open and in flew a red blur, tackling me to the ground in an embrace whilst screaming "You came, my love!" He pulled back, seemingly about to say something else, then stopped short. "Hold on! Who the hell are you?!" I went to sit up so as to form a reply, but Grell grabbed my shoulders and firmly shoved them back to the ground. He leaned over me, phosphorescent green eyes in perfect view and his face mere centimetres from my own. "Well, answer me! Who are you and what have you done with my Bassy?"  
"I - I'm F/N L/N, and I assure you, Sebastian isn't here."  
"Isn't here?" The reaper repeated, "Then where on Earth is he?! This is the Phantomhive Manor, is it not?" I frowned, unsure of how he could mistake this manor for the Phantomhives' from the manga.   
"No, it's not." Now it was Grell's turn to frown. "This is ____ Manor. And just so that you know, the current year is 2019. Somehow, you seem to have been transported through both space and time to another world." He simply looked at me for a moment, face still very close to mine, and I realised how hard this must be for him. Unsure of what else to do, I relinquished my hold on the gun in favour of wrapping my arms around him tightly, him doing the same to me.   
We laid there silently for a long time, until Grell suddenly jumped up, hauling me along with him. He looked down at me, thoughtful for a moment.   
"You'll have questions..." I offered, not breaking eye contact with him.   
"In fact, I have several. How do you know who I am? Where are we? Who are you? And do you have any tea?"  
"Of those, tea is the easiest so we'll do that first." I began striding back towards the kitchen, Grell keeping pace next to me. The conversation continued when we were both sat on a leather sofa next to a roaring fire in the living room, mugs of tea in hand.   
"We are currently in ____ Manor, my ancestral family home. It's in the ____ area. I am the owner of this place. I live alone, but have a [dog/cat/whatever you have] called ____. Finally, I know who you are because ... this may be a bit difficult for you to hear but in my world, you are one of my favourite characters in an anime called Black Butler. In my world, your whole world is fiction."   
Grell paused, forming a question. "What is 'anime'?" I tried to find a way to describe it, but then decided the best thing was to show him. I flicked the television on, the theme for [fave anime] rushing out of the surround sound speakers. Grell jumped, then leaned forwards to get a better look at the television.   
"Oh! Oh, wow!" Cried the flamboyant reaper. "This is simply incredible!!"


	15. Dwalin x Reader - Confusion

Y/N!" You were running through the woods. You didn't know where you were going, you hadn't paid enough attention to Gandalf to know where you were.   
"Wait!" They wouldn't leave you alone. You only wanted to be alone - that and for people not to be rude to you for no reason.   
"Stop!" First they didn't want you there, then they were nasty and talked behind your back, then they complained that you weren't there, and now they were trying to get you to come back. Your legs carried you faster and further than you could have ever imagined, why wouldn't they just let you be?   
In your blind state of panic to get away, you hadn't paid enough attention to hear the anguished cries of nearby orcs, or the fact that the light from the campfire was gradually growing weaker. You could hear someone following you, and from the short, heavy steps you realised it was a dwarf ~ just what you didn't need.   
You'd had enough. You swung around to face whichever member of the company it was, your H/C hair whipping about your face in the strong breeze tearing through the trees. You began to yell about how all you wanted was a little peace and quiet, and how none of the company would ever just give you a little space when you never ~  
"Ahhhh!" You screeched at the top of your lungs when the orc you had been yelling at (albeit unintentionally) swung it's jagged weapon at you. Within seconds you were off again, this time terror, rather than anger was fuelling you. The orc lunged after you and you dodged, but it's weapon slashed your arm. You let out another screech, and shot off again.   
Without any light at all, your foot caught on a large tree root, and you went flying. You could make out the blackened world spinning around you as you fell down would you assumed was a hill, but it stopped abruptly when you hit someone. Startled, it released a groan. You began thrashing about, trying to get away form the orc, but it held on to you tightly, you screamed and kicked but you knew it would do no good. A searing pain from a blunt force at the back of your head put an end to your movements and wails.

Time Skip (about 1hr)

Light began to filter into the dark, and you could see things moving around you. As they became clearer, you made out faces ~ ones that you could put names to. The company! They were all stood in a circle around you, and you were laying by the fire. Suddenly, as though a switch was flicked, you could see and hear everything. You gasped and sat bolt upright.  
"What the heck just happened?" The next thing you knew, Dwalin was kneeling at your side.  
"Y/N! You're alright. Mahal, I thought ..."   
He trailed off, and you frowned. Even in the firelight you could see he was ashen grey, the fur on his coat was matted with mud, and his eyes had a wild, frightened look about them. Now just utterly confused, you looked to Balin for help. His hand was covering his mouth, but you could see he could barely contain his laughter. Looking around, you found that the whole company wore similar expressions (except Dwalin).   
Fili and Kili could take it no longer. The brothers burst into raucous laughter, and the rest joined them. Dwalin was livid.  
"An' what part o' this situation looks t' be a laughin' matter!" He snarled, but to no avail. For the second time that evening, you'd had it. You marched up to Gandalf, who was leaning on his staff and laughing heartily. You let out an almost inhumane growl, and the laughing quickly ended.  
"Start explaining." Gandalf coughed and mumbled something about Fili and Kili. You swung round to them with an ice cold glare.   
"It's not our fault!" They cried.  
"Oh really." You replied sarcastically.  
"Well it might have been our idea..."

 

"What happened next, Uncle Balin?!" Cried little Poppy, looking up at an elderly Balin with eyes wide. 

"Not sure ya need t' know that one, darlin'," Dwalin butted in before his brother could say anything. 

"But dad," Poppy whined, looking at you for support. You stifled a chuckle, remembering how you had to be dragged off the brothers to prevent you from seriously injuring either one of them, you were mad enough for anything ~ or so the Company claim when they tell the tale. 

"Your father's right honey," you said, smiling when your daughter crossed her arms and huffed angrily. At this, you, Balin and Dwalin shared a knowing look that meant you would tell her later, and she would understand where her temper came from.


	16. Young!Shiro x Reader - Not Your Girlfriend!

"I never shoulda listened to Mephisto! And I'm outta ammo!" Shiro yelled in exasperation, throwing his arms up in the air at you. Gritting your teeth, you shrugged, firing round after round at the demons surrounding you to now protect both you and Shiro.   
"Damn Mephisto ... and damn you for listening to him!"   
"Now Y/N..." he stated, slowly walking up behind you, "You-" He was interrupted by your battle cry as you swapped the gun for a sword and charged a positively enormous demon - the last one left to kill. However, being the experienced exorcist you were, you didn't think twice about doing so. You finished with a flourish then proceeded to trip over your own two feet and land in Shiro's arms.   
"Well," he chuckled at your blazing face, "I didn't know you liked me that much." You let out a noise of indignation before jumping up and stalking away from him to retrieve your gun. Embarrassed, you called back;   
"Oh shut up!" 

•••

It was perhaps a week later when your next joint mission, shockingly enough supplied to you by Mephisto, decided to go badly wrong.   
You had both been handling the situation fairly well, but large demon attacks amongst the general student body at True Cross always caused at least a bit of an issue. Several kids had suffered temptaint, whilst some others had gotten injured by some falling debris, which was what revealed the biggest hobgoblin nest you had ever seen in the first place. But despite all of this, you and Shiro hadn't been doing too badly. That was until Arthur Auguste Angel decided to show up, after having supposedly been sent to help by HQ. (A/N; obviously he isn't Paladin at this point) From there, it all went downhill.   
For one thing, although you had to admit he had good fighting skills, you couldn't stand him. This was something Shiro knew only too well. The Dragoon mentally facepalmed when he caught sight of the new arrival, knowing full well he would have to break up a fight sooner or later.   
To begin with, he was surprised to find that neither one of you had a go at each other. You had decided that this situation was serious enough to warrant just ignoring that idiot and getting on with killing demons. That was working out fine until Angel specifically started intercepting and preventing your kills. It happened once and for once in your life you let it go. But then it happened again.   
In hindsight, Shiro decided that the competition between you two to kill the most demons probably got the job done quicker, but it wasn't worth it for the fight that broke out afterwards.   
When the hobgoblins had been safely dispatched and the wounded were tended to, you approached Angel furiously.   
"What was all that about?!" You whisper-yelled, trying not to attract attention.   
"What was all what about?" He replied smoothly, "Are you upset that I deigned to help you and your boyfriend with a difficult job?" You let out a low growl.   
"Firstly, we were doing just fine until you rocked up. Second, he is not my boyfriend!"   
"Oh really...?" Angel gave a sarcastic chuckle before walking over to Shiro, you storming after him.   
"Fujimoto, I really think you should try harder to keep your girlfriend under control, after all she is attacking me for no good reason." Instead of replying, Shiro looked over at you with a glint in his eyes that you just knew spelled trouble.   
"Sorry, you're right. My girlfriend does have a pretty uncontrollable temper at times." That was it. You were ready to start throwing punches, preferably in Angel's face-  
Your rampage was stopped before it had even started when you felt a soft pair of lips press against yours. You stood completely still; that was not what you were expecting. Shiro pulled away and you still didn't manage to move.   
"That's enough of that now, we have plenty to get on with. See ya, Angel." With that, he started walking away.   
Shiro had dragged you a fair distance from Angel by the time your senses had returned to you. You yanked your arm sharply out of his grip, causing him to spin around and face you.   
"What the hell was that about?!" You yelled angrily.   
"That was me helping you out. Now come on, girlfri-" You grabbed the lapels of Shiro's trench coat and pushed your face right up into his.  
"I. Am. Not. Your. Girlfriend." With that you let go of his coat and stormed off towards your apartment, needing time to cool off. You didn't look back at Shiro. 

•••

Two cups of tea, one shower and half an hour of your favourite film later, you felt terrible. Shiro was your best friend and you had been really rude to him over absolutely nothing. You had been drowning in self-pity for a while when you decided that there was only one thing for it; you had to go and apologise.   
It didn't take long to walk to Shiro's place and when you knocked on the door you nervously shifted your weight from foot to foot. When the door finally opened, you barged straight in without waiting for an invitation, immediately launching into a very long apology. After having tried several times and then discovering he couldn't get a word in edgeways, Shiro decided to make you stop by wrapping his arms around you in a bear hug. Head pressed to his shoulder, you breathed in the scent you found so oddly comforting and slowly calmed down. He glanced down at you.   
"Alright?"  
"Alright."   
You looked up in time to see the smirk on his face as he leaned down and quickly pecked you on the cheek.   
"I wouldn't be that bad as a boyfriend, would I?" He asked, giving you puppy dog eyes that he knew you couldn't resist. You laughed and shook your head.   
"No, I guess you wouldn't be."


	17. Undertaker x Reader - Safe

You ran full pelt through the streets of London, looking for someone who was alone, who could help you. As your eyes darted frantically from young families to elderly couples, you saw someone who was perfect. A bit of an eccentric figure, wearing all black robes that covered his hands and almost touched the floor, a black hat adorned with something that you didn't even know how to describe and a grey sash draped over his right shoulder. You rushed up to the man; he was your last hope.   
"Darling!" You called out, running to his side. "I missed you so much!" You laughed happily as you grabbed his arm, holding it with both of yours. The man giggled a little in a strange way.   
"Wonderful ... except, if I may ask, who exactly are you?" You laughed again, but inside were growing more panicked. What if this went wrong?   
"Darling, honestly! You mustn't play these tricks on me. One day I might fear you mean it!" At this you leaned up to his ear, pretending to kiss him on the cheek. You dropped your facade for a moment and whispered "Please just go along with it." You drew back again, looking up at where you supposed the man's eyes were, but such heavy bangs were covering them that you couldn't be sure. He paused for a moment, seeming to study you, then broke out into a massive smile.  
"Well dearest, it appears you caught me." You both started laughing and generally talking as you strolled down the street, until the man paused for a moment and turned to face you.   
"Is there anywhere else you needed to visit? Or do you fancy heading home now?" He asked you. You were incapable of replying immediately, the sudden rush of emotions and thoughts of a life you had never had made you feel a little sick.   
"Yes ... I think that might be a good idea. I'm afraid I'm feeling a little ... off today." You gripped his arm a bit tighter, waiting to ride out the waves of nausea that were blurring your vision and causing you to loose your balance.   
"An excellent idea," he stated after the nausea had passed. "You have seemed a bit under the weather all week. I think a nice cup of tea and a biscuit would do you a world of good." Your heart leapt at the thought of a cup of tea and a biscuit, but then you remembered that he was just playing along with your act. Nevertheless, you gave a determined smile.   
"That sounds brilliant. Do you want me to make it?"  
"Not at all. You rest when we get back, I'll make the tea."   
It wasn't long after that when you two departed from the crowded main street and walked a short way down a smaller street, stopping when you arrived outside a shop with a purple sign declaring 'Undertaker'. The man led you over to the shop and unlocked it, allowing you to walk in first. You stood rigid, but the second you heard the door close you collapsed in relief atop one of the many coffins. Somehow, by the grace of whichever deity had been watching, you had made it. You were uninjured and away from -   
"Now then," came the man's calming voice, "You just sit there and I'll make the tea." You noticed his voice was different than it before - it was deeper, and missing the high-pitched cackling tone. You faltered. You didn't know who he was, he didn't know who you were. He had played along with pretending to be your significant other, had welcomed you into his shop and hadn't asked a single question. You didn't even know his name. You mouthed silently until your brain finally managed to acquire a word.  
"Tea?" You asked in a timid, high-pitched tone, wanting to say everything but not having the words.   
"Well we did discuss it before - of course if that was part of this elaborate trick and I have misunderstood, I do apologise. Come now, there's no need to be upset. You can stop shaking, you're safe here." Upset? Shaking? You looked down to find that your hands were in fact shaking violently and there were hot tears cascading down your cheeks. You were crying. You never cried. That was when you realised how badly this must have affected you.   
After having stood up previously, you collapsed backwards onto the coffin, burying your face in your hands. You stayed that way for what could have been a few seconds or a few hours, until you felt a gentle, comforting weight around your shoulders. You opened your eyes to see a black robe draped around you and to hear footsteps walking away from you. When the man returned, he was carrying a tray of tea poured into various glass containers used for chemical reactions and a plate filled with something that looked suspiciously like dog biscuits. In his absence, you had managed to get the pointless tears under control, but were still shaken from the experience. You had glanced out from beneath the robe to look at the tea and biscuits when it occurred to you that this was actually the robe he had been wearing. You then took in his appearance without it.   
He wore a second, smaller black robe under the first, which seemed to have a habit of billowing open. Beneath that, he wore skin tight black trousers and black leather boots reaching up to his thighs. He also had a chain of mourning lockets looped over one shoulder. You were quite surprised at how different he was now compared to when you ran up to him on the street.   
"Biscuit?" He asked, breaking you out of your reverie. You stared up at him, unable to comprehend why he would be so kind to you.   
"I don't even know your name ..." you whispered. He blinked at you, seemingly surprised.   
"I take the name of my profession, my dear."  
"Undertaker?" He nodded and smiled in confirmation. "Undertaker ... I owe you an explanation. As well as a massive apology." For a few seconds he remained silent, like he was trying to make the biggest decision of his life. He then sat down on the same coffin as you, placing the tea and biscuits between you.   
"And what, if I may ask, is your name?"   
"Y/N," you replied quietly, not sure where this was going.   
"Y/N," he repeated, trying out your name. "A beautiful name. Y/N ... You don't need to tell me what happened out there, before you came running up to me, but-" you interrupted him.  
"I'm so sorry. I didn't - and then I - I just mean-" he held up a hand to silence your nervous stammering.   
"Let me speak." You dropped your head a little in apology and did as he said. "But whatever it was, it terrified you. I assume it was a person?" You played with a loose thread in your clothing, suddenly finding it very interesting. "Y/N," Undertaker prompted, and you muttered something that was unintelligible even to your own ears. You thought you had gotten away with it as he didn't say anything more for a long while - that was until two hands held your shoulders and turned them to the left; Undertaker was forcing you to look at him. You kept your head down and eyes firmly glued to the floor, until you suddenly felt a change in the room's energy. The hands on your shoulders tightened significantly and the mortician growled out "Y/N. Look at me, right now." As it seemed you had inadvertently angered your saviour, you once again did as he asked. When you did, you were shocked to find that you were no longer looking at grey bangs, but instead a pair of the brightest, glowing green eyes you had ever seen. In fact, they looked green on the outside and yellow on the inside, almost like a double iris. But the only being to have those kind of eyes was a ... no, surely he's not a -  
"Was it a person?" Those piercing, beautiful eyes would brook no argument so at last you relented.   
"Yes. It was." You said shortly. When he didn't answer you knew you were going to have to give more information. "When I was younger, still living at home, I had an abusive family member. When someone finally realised what was going on, this family member was brought to justice. Arrested. I received word a day ago that he had been released, that he was coming for me. He had managed to find out the area where I live. I was told my only chance was to act as though I had a partner, as he would only try to hurt me if I was alone. But I misjudged the time I had. I had no idea he'd be able to get here so quickly. I was out today to find someone who would be willing to play the part, but as I turned the corner at the top of the main street, I practically ran head-first into him. With nothing else I could do, I ran down this street to try and find someone really quickly. As it was, I happened to run into you. I'm so sorry you got dragged into this. I really am." You had once again dropped your gaze, unable to face him. You felt like you wanted to cry, an extremely rare occurrence, but at the same time you couldn't muster the energy to do it. You just felt so empty.   
"You needn't worry about involving me. You could say that I specialised in this sort of situation in my previous ... occupation. And if it means you'll be safe, you are quite welcome to stay here with me." You wanted to laugh. You wanted to scream out in joy and thank him until the heavens fell. You had been strong for so long, and now couldn't find the strength. To your relief, without words, Undertaker understood perfectly.  
However, through all of this, one burning question stood out and you felt you had to ask it.   
"You're not human, are you?" A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.   
"Clever girl ..." he breathed to himself.   
"You're a shinigami." His reaction left you astonished. His expression had become so soft and tender that you could have easily forgotten that he literally was death.   
"Do you have any idea how long it's been since someone called me that? You are right, but you knew that already. Although, I am surprised about one detail."   
"What's that?" You asked quietly. He didn't say anything for a moment, simply looking into your E/C eyes.   
"I reaped the souls of countless humans for many, many years. I passed judgement on Marie Antoinette and Robin Hood. I am legendary within the world of reapers, yet you are afraid of a human family member, not me. Humans do so fascinate me." You paused, thinking of the best way to put your words.   
"A moment ago you say I could stay here with you if it means I'll be safe." He nodded slowly, paying close attention to you. "I have never felt safer in my life than the few minutes I've been sitting here with you. Please let me stay."   
Undertaker gently moved the tray of tea and biscuits so he could sit very close to you. He wrapped his arms around your faintly shaking frame and pulled you close to him, whispering sweet nothings of how he would protect you and everything would be alright now. You had never felt safer.


End file.
